The Ramblings of E.M. Kingston

Part of me is missing, fragmented in myself
I cannot hear my own sorrow, only see my regrets
No smile braces my lips, pursed tight
Not letting words slip, silence
My eyes cry silently, no tears call fall
The bareness of my skin, tells a story of oppression
Do you see me from one side, or the other?
Do you feel my pain in your eyes? I suffer.
Fragmented senses, lacking and slacking
Brought on by myself? No, others.
Only my skin is seen, prejudice…bias
Broken in pieces, disassociation with my roots
My culture attacked, violence ensues
You cannot see past my skin, racist
You cannot make me hear your words
Volunteered deafness, with one eye locked
On the soul that you are lacking, as you define me.
Label me different than pasty…go ahead.
Stop patronizing me, I am broken for you
Because of you… and you won’t stop…
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